


Proximity

by bunnyangel



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) - Freeform, Gen, Mama Athena Grant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29295336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bunnyangel/pseuds/bunnyangel
Summary: Athena Grant shows up at his apartment covered in blood.That's not the problem.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley & Athena Grant
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68
Collections: 9-1-1 Tales, Flowers For Your Grave





	Proximity

**Author's Note:**

> All the appreciation for [Marcia Elena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marciaelena/pseuds/Marcia%20Elena). Thanks always for looking over my junk.

He groans as the pounding at his door pulls him from shallow, uneasy sleep. He considers ignoring it. Everyone important has a key. Maybe his neighbor, but no, the Winstons are on vacation--

The pounding intensifies.

He rolls out of bed with a snarl, nearly tripping down the stairs while rubbing the grit from his eyes.

"What--?!" He yells even before he yanks the door fully open.

He only has a moment to register Athena Grant before she's shoving him back in and slamming the door behind her.

Tripping over the hem of his pants, he ends up on the ground gaping up at her, twisting to follow her as she paces further into the room. She completely ignores him, head swiveling, scanning for...what? Her gun is out of its holster, gripped tightly in her hand and slightly raised.

What the fuck is going on?

He is way too tired for this.

He rubs his face and then his aching tailbone as he gets up, frowning because she's--she's jittery in a way he hasn't seen since _The Incident_ and her gun is _still_ in her hand. A thread of worry niggles its way up his spine.

"What's up, Athena?"

Finally she turns to him, having apparently deemed it safe, and suddenly he's wide awake because her uniform is drenched in what looks to be blood.

"Oh my God! Are you--are you okay?" He asks, definitely not panicking as he reaches for her. 

She stops him with a single wave of her hand, staring up at him, almost through him, really--and wow, her pupils are _really_ wide--with an uncharacteristically grim countenance and a stiffer jaw than usual.

"I'm fine," she says, belatedly. "I'm not injured, but you have to listen to me."

"O-okay." He blinks. "Is...is everyone else okay?" Worst case scenarios are already running in his head, but the panic is only stemmed by the fact that none of them would result in Athena Grant at his front door covered in blood.

Her lips thin even further and then she takes a visibly shaky breath.

He blinks again, because...in that split second--no, it couldn't be... He's never seen her afraid. His heart is pounding uncomfortably, because whatever's rattled Athena Grant, the toughest person he knows, well, it's something he probably doesn't want to tangle with.

Her mouth opens and then closes. He watches her struggle, that strange, far away expression still on her face.

Uneasiness blooms and sits heavily in his gut. If he didn't know better…

When she exhales for a second time, he decides to intervene.

"Hey," he says gently. Her mouth snaps shut and her gaze sharpens enough to give him a Look. He spares a quick grin, because yeah, using that sort of spooked-horse, calm-the-victim tone on a woman like Athena Grant is still pretty unimaginable. Not that it changes the fact that she seems to be in something like shock from some unspecified, _violent_ trauma. "Why don't I get you something to drink and something clean to change into? Okay?"

But as he takes a gentle hold of her elbow to usher her to a bar stool, her hand shoots out and grabs onto him.

"Buck, there are...there are zombies. Outside."

And well, that was just--.

So, zombies. Actual, live zombies.

He's got the TV on low, watching the news in disbelief as Athena curls around a steaming cup on the couch in one of his t-shirts and looking incredibly small in a way he's never seen.

The world might be ending, but this is probably what throws him off the most.

Four units, she had said, dispatched to the same location barely six blocks from his apartment. Codes for violence and riot, but it wasn't what they found.

"I was lucky to get out," she says, staring off into nothing.

He shifts uneasily, but she doesn't seem to be regressing to the earlier scary-as-hell state of shock.

"I emptied my gun into one and it didn't even stop. I took it out with a baton, barely, luckily. There were only six of them when we arrived, and nearly two dozen when I ran." Devastation spreads over her face. "I ran."

He swallows the lump in his throat, anxiety ratcheting from how close to loss he'd been and hadn't even known. How close to loss they'd all been. Six blocks. It had only been six blocks. "There was nothing you could have done."

Athena sips her tea and doesn't reply.

He's not the right person for this. He's not Bobby, and he's not Hen or Michael or even Chim. He's just Buck. He tries anyway.

He sits on the low table in front of her, and gently pries a hand away from the mug, drawing her gaze.

"I'm glad you made it out," he says, and then repeats it, insistent, when it doesn't change the glimmer of anguish in her eye. "I'm glad you made it out."

Finally, she grants him a small smile and squeezes his hand.

Satisfied, he lets go.

"Okay, so, what should we do?" He looks back towards the TV. "It kinda looks like containment is failing."

"Oh, it's worse than that," she says grimly. "There's no one answering at dispatch or at the headquarters." She suddenly looks at him. "I told Bobby and Michael to get out. It doesn't seem to be as widespread on that side of town, so my kids are with them already and they're headed to the firehouse. They're gonna lock it down and Bobby's gonna try and get a hold of somebody, maybe get some federal or military response. You need to call Maddie and Eddie and warn them. I'll call Hen."

He heads upstairs at a run, dread nipping at his heels. They weren't on this side of town either, but the team was off today and they could be anywhere in all this mess.

He dials with slightly shaking hands, and nearly falls, strength draining from his limbs, when Maddie picks up cheerfully. Her cheer evaporates as he relays the news and then it's Chim promising to get her safely to the firehouse.

Calming somewhat, he calls Eddie, who lives even further in the opposite direction from him.

Eddie, who doesn't pick up.

"Come on, come on," he mutters, re-dialing, and then again. He hangs up when it goes to voicemail for the third time and texts him all the pertinent information.

"Hen's moving her family to the station," Athena says as he returns to the living room.

"Yea, Chim and Maddie are, too."

She picks up on his nerves and her next words are gentle. "And Eddie?"

He shakes his head, and chews on the inside of his bottom lip.

"I texted the information."

"We'll call back in a little bit. Let's pack up what supplies we can and get out of the hot zone."

"My neighbors are out of town," he offers distractedly, still worrying about the Diazes, trying to remember what Eddie had said about his day off. Everything had been such a haze of exhaustion yesterday... "We can clear out their apartment, too."

He lets them into the Winstons’ with his key, wondering, absurdly, if he should still water their plants. They clear out the kitchen and check the rest of the apartment for any useful supplies.

He leaves a note apologizing and promising reimbursement, ignoring Athena's amusement and then locks the apartment back up as they leave.

While Athena packs everything into duffle bags, he drags out his camping gear and considers it, then shrugs and starts packing it. He squeezes in extra throw blankets and hefts the whole thing over to Athena.

They move at a fast clip down the stairs, but he stops abruptly when he sees the toy truck on the third floor landing. It belongs to Sammy Meyer, eight years old. The kid had been crying about losing it last week.

"Athena…we need to warn them."

She follows his gaze. Another look of devastation crosses her face before her jaw tightens. “I didn't even--" She cuts off and turns away, clearly furious at herself. Her shoulders settle into a tense, painful line. “Let’s go.”

He wants to reach out and touch her; isn't sure how welcome that would be. He may not have kids, but he still remembers all too clearly, even years later, the bone deep terror of losing Christopher and the tunnel vision that had resulted.

They backtrack up to the top floor and make their way down. There are four units per floor, separated by the stairwell and elevator banks, and only seven floors. So while it's nerve wracking to have to open the doors without knowing what's on the other side, it's fairly quick work to make their way through the building.

Unfortunately, it's too late in the day and too early in the week. None of the other tenants are at home. He doesn't believe in a higher power, but he sends a quick prayer up to any that exist for them.

When they reach the ground floor, Athena turns to him. "Remember, they are not human, whether they look like kids, or grandparents or someone you used to know. Do not hesitate."

He squeezes the Winston's bat in his hand, feeling it twist in his sweaty palm.

"I got it."

They enter the lobby cautiously, but it's still all clear. They peer outside, but it's disturbingly quiet. He catches Athena's arm as she makes to open the door.

"At least let me go first, you've got kids."

She frowns at him, and then lets go of the door handle and turns to him fully.

"You listen to me, Evan Buckley, cause I'm only gonna say this once. There is no world where I, where any of us, will sacrifice you. As far as I'm concerned, you're my kid, too. Do you hear me?"

He swallows around the lump in his throat. "Y-yeah. Yes, ma'am. I hear you."

She studies him critically, and then, to his everlasting shock, pulls him in for a hug.

He stiffens in surprise, but before he can react she's already letting go.

His chest feels uncomfortably tight, a mixture of pleasure and mortification warming his cheeks, and something that feels super uncomfortably like tears behind the bridge of his nose.

"Stay with me."

And without hesitation, he follows her out into the street.


End file.
